


Mirrors

by BlackDog9314



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAMF Castiel, BDSM, Bottom Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub Play, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Is it awkward that I got turned on by my own porn?, M/M, Mirror Sex, Porn Without Plot, Sex Club, Spanking, Sub Dean, Top Castiel, plot what plot?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 13:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3652020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackDog9314/pseuds/BlackDog9314
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester experiences something entirely new after meeting a handsome (and intriguing) man at his favorite kink club.<br/>Who says you can't mix up your routine every once in a while?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> This porn ficlet was inspired by the song Mirrors by Natalia Kills. Here's the [link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yn6FjQ_-Q70) if you care to listen to it while you read the sexy-times part :)  
> 

Dean sipped his beer leisurely as he surveyed the dark recesses of the club laid out before him. There were a few Saint Andrew's crosses placed strategically here and there outside of the crowded dance floor. Not all of them were occupied, but those that were had mostly-naked men and women secured to them, being flogged, teased, or, depending on their partners, ignored for the purposes of humiliation.

The lighting in the joint was red-tinted and dim, and as far as sex/dance clubs went Lacrymosa was about standard-issue. Anonymous one-night stands weren't hard to find, though Dean didn't make a habit of doing more than looking-on or lending a well-muscled arm to assist in a flogging once in a while. The sense of community pervading the club was one that Dean hadn't encountered in many others in his trips and travels, and the regulars he'd come to know behind the well-stocked bar kept him coming back to bask in the relaxed, sensual atmosphere.

Dean frequented Lacrymosa, had been coming once every few weeks for more than a year since he moved to Austin. The kink scene was one he'd known he was into for a while, but moving to a new city had been just the push he needed to admit it to himself.

Dean'd also become much more comfortable with the knowledge that he was firmly heteroflexible and felt no need to apologize for this side of himself, not the way he had when his judgmental father had still been alive.

He finished his beer and tried to shrug the thought off, noticing in the back of his mind that one of his favorite songs had just started playing, a heady, industrial beat that seemed to echo back and forth in the dark spaces of the club.

Tonight didn't feel like other Saturday nights spent in Lacrymosa, though. Dean's skin felt as though it was stretched tight over his broad frame, as though a crackle of electricity was stored in each flex of his muscles. Tonight, Dean wanted to take someone home, he wanted to tie them down, make them come until they fell asleep beneath him.

Dean was a naturally dominant type, for the most part, but part of the rush of the role for him was giving his partners what they wanted until they were completely satiated. He supposed in that way he was a little more like a submissive, but he wasn't too intent on labeling himself in general and wasn't planning on changing that tonight.

He ordered another beer from Benny, chatting with him for a moment as he cast a glance around the club, beginning to look for someone who caught his eye so he could start a conversation, see if a fling was even a possibility tonight.

Though pickings weren't exactly slim, Dean wasn't seeing anyone who fit his general type (easy-going, not too formally-dressed, dark-haired). Benny laughed at him, chiding him for finally succumbing to the urge after so long, jokingly telling Dean that he was available.

Dean smiled and rolled his eyes, thinking back to his one encounter with the accented bartender and his ice-blue eyes. Though the man had been a lot of fun, Benny was a little too aloof for his tastes, especially tonight. Tonight Dean wanted someone to pretend they were his, to hold him while he fucked them, to say sweet things about his eyes or his voice and fall asleep next to him. He didn't often crave emotionless sex in general and hadn't really since he'd turned twenty-eight, and tonight it definitely seemed he was craving intimacy above whatever else he might find.

Dean shook his head, taking a swig of his beer and thinking that he was setting himself up for disappointment, but was stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the dark-haired man standing outside the dance-floor, a drink in his hand and his hair curling down onto his forehead in unruly tufts.

The man was not talking to anyone, nor did he seem to be looking for anything. His gaze was vacant and a little bored, his stance relaxed and open.

Dean was moving towards him before he knew it, his eyes fixed on that haughty, stone-hard expression.

The man saw Dean before he got all the way over to him, a corner of his plush mouth quirking up into a half-smile as Dean came to stand in front of him.

Dean extended his hand before he could lose his nerve, flashing a smile he knew had gotten him some before and saying, “You don't look impressed.”

The man took his hand, his grip cool and firm, and he laughed a little, showing straight, white teeth that glinted in the red light.

“Can't say I am. But, it doesn't much matter. I'm only here for the night.”

“Business trip?” Dean asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.

The man nodded, “Tonight's my last night, figured I'd see what Austin had to offer, and this place had some good reviews.”

“Not your scene?” Dean asked.

“Oh, it's my scene all right. I just feel like I'd have to know more people here to get the full experience. Feels vaguely like looking into a window.”

Dean nodded, “You're not wrong. I live here and know most of the bartenders, and I like it just fine. Took a visit or two, though.”

The man surprised him by moving forward suddenly, saying directly into Dean's ear, his breath hot against Dean's skin, “I'm Castiel. May I ask who you are?”

“Dean, Winchester. Transplant to the city,” Dean realized he was trembling slightly. Castiel's voice was deeper than any he could remember hearing in recent memory, and though his speech came off as oddly formal and a little stilted, it had a quiet kind of authority to it that Dean found himself responding to.

“Dean. It suits you. Slightly old-school, simple. Like the embodiment of a Pollock painting or something equally stereotypical when one talks about men and what it means to be one.”

Dean blinked, “Is that a compliment?”

Castiel shook his head, “It was an observation, I'm sorry. Basically, you're hot and I was a history minor at Penn State.”

Dean laughed, finishing his beer and watching as though hypnotized as Castiel drank more of whatever filled his plastic cup, his tan, stubbled throat working as he swallowed once, then twice.

“You don't look too bad yourself, man. If you don't mind me asking, what all are you into?” Dean chanced asking, figuring it was a socially acceptable move considering they were at a friggin' sex club.

Castiel smirked, his delicately shaped lips glistening slightly with whatever he'd sipped, “I like to take control, have some fun. I find people oftentimes construct boundaries for themselves they don't really need.”

Dean nodded slowly. He was liking the sound of that. Something about this particular night was making him feel like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. At the moment, boundaries felt like something made to be crossed.

He and Castiel spoke no more of preferences or boundaries for a while after that, spending over half an hour talking about what Castiel did for a living (he worked for Dell and was visiting the city for a work convention at the company's headquarters) and what Dean was planning on doing for his next restoration job (he'd just purchased an old, broken-down Mustang and already had a buyer lined up for when he finished her).

Talking to Castiel felt almost too easy, and Dean caught himself casually mentioning his younger brother Sam, finishing up his law degree at Stanford. He was surprised at himself; usually Sam was something he kept tucked deep inside his heart, a happy fact that he only took out and examined when he was alone. Sam was a bright and shining part of his life, and Dean knew he had a tendency to covet him, to keep his little brother and the pride he felt for him and his career a relative secret, as if telling other people would tarnish it.

But standing there with Castiel, so close to the older man that their arms touched every time they so much as inhaled, Dean found himself discussing his brother at length. Dean wasn't drunk, not by a long shot, but being around Castiel produced in him a feeling similar to tipsiness. Castiel's eyes were blue like he had never seen before, he smelled like sandalwood and rum, and Dean wanted an excuse to clasp his arm or lock their fingers together.

When Castiel asked if he'd ever stayed at the mid-range hotel not far away from the club, Dean lied and said he hadn't.

The two of them left Lacrymosa together not long after that, with Dean giving Benny all the relevant details and the explicit instructions to call the cops if he hadn't contacted him by noon the following day.

Castiel's car was a rental, a nondescript Mazda in charcoal gray that Castiel apologized for with a rueful smile. Dean laughed him off, nerves setting in as they drove to the hotel. Though he usually didn't get anxious even during casual encounters, he had to admit that this Castiel guy had him thoroughly rattled. The vibe the man gave off was one of calm experience and self-assured dominance. Dean was certain Castiel would try to assume the role of top that night, and wasn't entirely turned-off at the thought.

The parking garage felt surreal and as if it was lit far too well compared to the club, and Dean cast many a furtive glance at Castiel as they walked out together down two flights of stairs and then crossed the street to enter the hotel. Castiel was even more attractive in proper lighting, and Dean found himself almost mesmerized by the lithe frame somewhat visible beneath his untucked, black button-down and the sharp cheekbones dusted with brunette stubble. Dean hoped he looked half as good under the fluorescent lights in the hotel lobby and the carpeted elevator.

Castiel said nothing when they reached his room door, unlocking it with a scuffed key card and politely gesturing for Dean to enter first.

Dean's hands shook as he stepped inside and took the seat by the dresser after Castiel suggested he do so, and his host sat on the edge of the neatly made bed.

It'd been a while since Dean had been with anyone remotely into kink, and longer still since he had been with a man. He licked his suddenly-dry lips and inhaled sharply as he saw Castiel's ocean-eyes follow the motion.

“Are you alright, Dean?” he asked politely, extending a hand out cautiously.

“I'm fine, really. I guess it's just been a while, y'know? Also, I...well, nevermind.” He shrugged off his own words, but Castiel held his eyes with an intensity that only made Dean's hands shake more.

“What is it, Dean? If you'd like to go home, I can take you back so you can get your car.”

“No! I don't want to go home, trust me. It's just...I've never, uh...subbed for a guy before. I've gotten fucked, but it was always a vanilla thing. And unless I'm mistaken...you seem like a Dom-type.”

Castiel startled him by standing up abruptly and closing the space between them, pulling Dean up from the chair in one swift motion by the collar of his t-shirt, pressing his lips to Dean's and swallowing up his cry of surprise. Dean didn't feel defensive the way he'd feared he might, and he opened his mouth and sighed deeply when Castiel responded in kind. Castiel wrapped strong arms around the younger man and tilted Dean's head back for better access, swiping his tongue along Dean's bottom lip and lightly tugging on it with the white teeth Dean had admired in the club.

Dean was unable to keep his noise of disappointment contained when Castiel pulled back, his eyes intense but focused.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice earnest in a way that implied he wanted to trust Dean in return.

Dean nodded, and Castiel shook his head, “Yes or no, Dean.”

“Yes,” Dean whispered, feeling how hard he was in his pants and wishing he could move his hips forward and press them to Castiel's.

“Red-yellow-green?” Castiel asked, referring to the common system of communication sometimes used in lieu of safe-words.  
“Yes,” Dean said again, his lips remaining parted after the word left them.

When Castiel kissed him again Dean moaned, his hands scrabbling at the man's sides. Castiel let him grind their hips together, doing nothing to deter him or help him along as Dean sought more friction against his aching dick.

Castiel pulled away a second time, just as Dean had gotten comfortable kissing him and all the space that had been between them only minutes before was a cold memory.

He said, his voice low and authoritative, “I don't do anything halfway, and you will do as I tell you unless you believe it will cause you harm or trigger you in any way. I expect you to be honest with me if this is the case. I may not remember to ask you what your color is before every individual thing, and I trust you to inform me if you do not wish to do something.” He kept his thumb and forefinger latched onto Dean's chin, making him look him in the eyes as he delivered the statement.

“I will.”

“You will, what?” Castiel's voice was dark and Dean had topped enough to know what was expected of him.

“I will, _sir_ ,” Dean choked out, experiencing both a mix of heady desire and the natural resistance of one who has never before been told what to do and done it willingly.

Less than an hour ago he would have laughed in the face of anyone who told him he'd so much as consider playing sub to a random businessman he met at Lacrymosa. But using the title made his legs feel weak and unsteady, and he felt his cock leak in his boxers and exhaled harshly as it twitched in its confines.

“You like that, don't you? I bet you've never called a sexual partner that before, have you?” Castiel asked. Dean shook his head, and Castiel continued.

“If you do not refer to me as sir, I will not be pleased, Dean. Do you understand?”

Dean said only, “Yes.”

He knew he was baiting the Dom and would have laughed at his knee-jerk show of resistance had the situation not been what it was. A not-inconsiderable part of Dean wasn't willing to submit so very easily to anyone, even this gorgeous man, and he only hoped Castiel didn't mind a _little_ fight in his partners. Dean might be considering subbing, but that didn't mean he intended to present himself ass-up and make it easy. Old habits died hard, he supposed.

Castiel growled, and Dean's eyes slid shut with lust at the sound. Castiel turned him around quickly and shoved him bodily down onto the bed. The white duvet felt cool against Dean's hot skin.

“I warned you, didn't I, Dean?”

Dean nodded, trembling with anticipation and a bit of fear as he felt Castiel reach under him and deftly work at his belt and then his fly, yanking his pants down around his knees and exposing his bare skin to the cold air-conditioning of the room.

Dean reached around to cover himself with his hands, but Castiel pulled them away, taking both of his wrists together in one vice-like grip and holding them behind his back while the other hand did Dean could only guess what.

When the first stinging, open-handed slap landed on Dean's left buttock he hissed in mixed pleasure and pain. He'd never been on the opposite end of a spanking thus far in his life, and found he genuinely couldn't pry his wrists from Castiel's hold. He hadn't known the man was so strong.

Castiel spanked him a few more times, each hit harder than the last. Dean's cock was trapped between the sheets below him and his hot stomach, and each slap jostled his body and dragged the hard flesh against the opposing surfaces simultaneously. He whimpered at the fourth slap, wanting to succumb and hump into the soft mattress, or do something, anything, to alleviate some of the pressure building between his legs. But he also had the distinct feeling that Castiel would not allow him to do so.

“Are you going to be good, Dean?” Castiel asked, taking a moment to let Dean's heated skin cool a little, the slaps abating.

“Cas,” Dean half-whispered, twisting his head around to look at the man above him. Castiel's cheeks were slightly flushed, his compact chest rising and falling with the exertion of holding Dean down and spanking him.

“That doesn't answer the question, Dean,” Castiel said, and did Dean hear a hint of smugness there?

At that he resolutely moved his head back to where it had been, one cheek pressed into the bed and his eyes on the opposite wall.

Castiel tugged Dean's pants and boxers all the way off with his free hand after that, and Dean unconsciously spread his legs wider once his feet were free.

The slaps started again in the midst of his rebellious silence, and Dean didn't realize he was softly moaning with every hit until Cas's hand abruptly left where it had been around Dean's wrists to come up and around to cover his mouth.

Dean didn't think to escape from under Castiel with the obvious opening afforded him; he just clenched fistfuls of the comforter beneath him and moaned into Castiel's hand with each jarring smack applied to his sore ass. His cock slid over the now precome-slick covers beneath him with every slap, too much and not nearly enough at the same time. He thought idly to himself that he might be able to understand the appeal of spanking and paddling after this ordeal.

Dean wasn't sure how much time passed that way, and heard Castiel's voice as if from inside a dream when he asked, “Are you going to be good, Dean?”

“Yes, sir,” he said into the sheets, noticing just then that the man had removed his hand from over Dean's mouth to allow him to answer. He was so hard it almost hurt, and any further insubordinate actions or thoughts were quickly tamped down by the desire to be touched, to find some relief.

At his words Castiel immediately began to gently massage Dean's tender, lightly bruised skin, and Dean shuddered at the feeling of the soft touches in contrast to the spanking, arching mindlessly into his partner's hands.

“Turn over,” Castiel commanded, and Dean did without hesitation, gasping as his cock bounced with the movement.

Dean wanted to cover himself as Castiel's eyes roved over his half-clothed body, having surfaced enough from his distracted, sexually frustrated state to notice how closely the man was observing the curves and angles of his body and the dusting of freckles that decorated the tanned skin of his thighs.

As if sensing this, Castiel smiled at him, “You're gorgeous.”

Dean blushed and looked away, and Castiel took the opportunity to curl down over him and lift his shirt over his head and off. He cupped Dean's face and looked at him carefully once the younger man had finally gotten the courage to redirect his eyes to Castiel's.

“What's your color, Dean?”

“Green, sir,” Dean replied easily, his eyes fluttering as Castiel's fingers traced his jaw and his cheekbones.

Castiel bent to kiss him again, reaching down between Dean's legs at the same time to wrap his hand loosely around Dean's cock.

Dean cried out into Castiel's mouth at the touch, worrying for a moment that he was going to orgasm right then and cover himself and Castiel in his come while the other man still had all of his clothes on.

Castiel began to stroke him firmly and steadily, and Dean tried to move his hips up into the motion, but Castiel re-positioned his other hand to grasp Dean's hip and keep him anchored to the bed and effectively immobilized. Oh, but he was strong.

“It feels good to be touched like this after that, doesn't it? My hand on you while your ass is still raw,” Castiel said against Dean's lips.

Dean nodded vigorously.

Castiel sped up his stroke fractionally, and Dean found himself again losing track of time as he misplaced the knowledge of where his body ended and the cool sheets began under that steady stroke.

“I want to be inside you, Dean. What is your color?”

“Green, sir,” Dean said for the second time that night, opening his eyes to look directly at Castiel. His already impressive erection became impossibly harder at the thought of Castiel fucking into him, sliding his cock between his aching cheeks and taking him with his suit still on, the opened buttons of his pants scratching new trails into Dean's skin.

He was surprised when Castiel stood him up and walked them both over to stand before the tall, full-length mirror fastened to the door. Castiel reached into one of his back pockets and procured a small packet of lube and a few condoms, smirking at Dean's eye-roll.

“How Boy Scout-esque of you, sir,” his voice was mildly sarcastic, and Castiel repaid him by spanking him again. Dean mewled and tried to push his ass back into Castiel's hands, who did not stop him.

The tearing noise of the lube packet being opened sounded thunderous to Dean in the small room, and when Castiel tentatively pushed a slick finger to Dean's entrance he said hoarsely, “Yes, sir, please—”

He exhaled loudly when the finger blessedly slid into him, inch by inch, and to keep himself from making some truly un-manly noises asked Castiel, his voice already the tiniest bit breathless, “Why're we in front of a mirror?”

“I want you to see yourself while my cock is inside you, Dean. I want you to know what you look like while you're subbing for a man the first time,” Castiel's endlessly sky-blue eyes behind him were fever-bright in their intensity, his pink lips wrapping around the dirty words sinfully.

Dean groaned at the sight, and a second finger soon joined the first in him, and he had to brace himself with one hand against the wall next to the mirror as Castiel began to scissor them in a languid 'v'. He moved them deeper each time.

When Castiel found what he was looking for, Dean's breath hitched loudly and he cursed.

“Fuck—”

A third finger followed the first two after only a few minutes more, but Dean barely noticed.

“Sir, please, please—”

Castiel's fingers slipping out of him left an empty ache in their wake, and the sound of Castiel's pants hitting the floor behind him was like music to Dean's ears.

Dean heard Castiel opening the condom and the slippery sound of it being rolled over his penis, and then the squirt of the rest of the lube being dripped onto its surface.

When Castiel began to press his cock, hot and fat, into Dean, he was blown away by how big he felt, and was thankful for a moment that he hadn't seen Castiel's dick beforehand and been too afraid to try taking it.

“Dean, look at yourself,” Castiel ordered, reaching around to roughly grasp Dean's chin and force his bowed head up to make eye contact with his own reflection. His lips parted as he watched his face contort with the mixed pleasure and pain of the initial penetration.

When Castiel was fully sheathed inside Dean's body a few minutes later he moved his hand to wrap it around Dean's dick.

“Going to fuck you, now, Dean. You're being so good for me.”

Dean nodded numbly as Castiel began to move, a loud whimper torn from his lungs as Castiel inched out and then thrust back in as he began to jack him off again at the same time.

The sound Dean made was close to a strangled sob when he felt the fingers of Castiel's other hand reach between his buttocks into the crevice in which he was thrusting, teasing the tight rim stretched taut around his length. Dean soundlessly bucked into the slick fingers opening him even wider in tandem with Castiel's thrusts.

Any boundaries Dean had ever set for himself were being brutally broken down by the bluntness of Castiel inside him, and the almost feral intensity of his eyes. In the mirror before him, Dean stared into them.

"No one's ever...oh, god...Never touched me like that before, sir," Dean couldn't help but sputter out as he felt the hand on his dick tighten and speed up.

“Tell me you've only been good for me like this, Dean,” each word was punctuated by a deliberately shallow thrust.

“Only...done this...for you, sir. Oh, fuck! Never been so good for anyone else. Fuck—”

“Do you like this, Dean? Do you like seeing how you look with a cock in your ass? I haven't even taken off my clothes to put it in you; you don't seem to care,” Castiel's voice was this side of taunting, and Dean saw himself as if through a haze in the mirror, twisting at his own nipples and shaking convulsively, his lips wet and red and his chest flushed a dark pink. He saw his abdominal muscles contract with Castiel's every move into his clenching hole.

Dean moaned helplessly, “Fuck, yes. Don't care, feels so—fucking—good. Spank me, just one more time, just one more—”

Castiel wasted no time moving his hand to oblige him. He spanked him, hard, once, then twice, feeding Dean's greedy hole his full length again as he did so. Dean started to come into Castiel's cupped hand the second the man's palm made contact with his ass. His mouth opened in a silent cry as his semen painted the mirror and his body went slack.

Dean began to fall, his violently-shaking legs giving out beneath him, and Castiel gently pulled out of him and got him to the bed before he could hit the ground. Castiel laid Dean down on his back and spread his legs before sliding his cock back inside his orgasm-pliant body, touching Dean everywhere while he fucked into him almost reverently, his nipples, his shoulders, his softening penis.

Dean hissed at the touches and the thrusts into his over-sensitized flesh. In only a few minutes more Castiel came with a strangled cry, and Dean felt the man's dick twitch hard inside of him as he spilled into the condom.

The last thing Dean was expecting was for Castiel to slick his fingers with saliva and push them into his sore hole after he tied-off the used condom and threw it away, crooking his clever digits and finding Dean's prostate as he had the first time. Dean moaned and tried to move up and away from the fingers inside him, but Castiel held his hips down again.

“You're going to come one more time for me tonight, Dean.”

“I can't, Cas, I can't—”

Castiel covered Dean's mouth and crooked two fingers inside of him, working him almost roughly. When Dean came for the second time that night it felt as though the orgasm was wrung out of him, like unwilling tears or age-old trauma. He screamed into Castiel's fingers, his breath coming in shallow heaves as he felt his come spurt over his torso in thick streaks.

 

Dean must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he was aware of was waking up to darkness and the feeling of a warm body wrapped around him from behind.

He jerked upright with a hollow dread, waking his bed-partner up in the process.

“Dean?” Castiel's whiskey-deep voice was groggy with sleep.

“I have to go,” Dean said distractedly, forcing himself to get up and out of the bed. He felt around in the darkness for his clothes and found them soon enough, pulling them on while ignoring Castiel's questions.

*

A day and a half later Dean was surprised to get a phone call from Castiel while he was at work with Bobby.

“You put your number in my phone?”

“I was afraid you'd...”

“Bolt?” Dean finished his thought almost regretfully.

“Look, Dean, I know the other night was...intense.”

Dean blushed and excused himself from the shop for a moment, wiping his dirty hand on his dirtier jeans.

“I'm sorry, man, I just...I don't know if I—if I'm like that,” he explained falteringly.

“You don't have to be like anything, Dean. I only want to see you again. You can top this time, or we don't even have to have sex ever again, I don't really care about that so much.”

“It's weird, man. I didn't think I'd ever...obey like that.” The last part of the sentence was a whisper.

“It doesn't mean you aren't the same person. Please, just...let me show you that I don't see you as someone inferior to me.”

“Would you want to do lunch?” Dean asked after a minute or two.

When Castiel answered, Dean could have sworn he literally heard the smile in his voice.

 


End file.
